


A Sign Laid Upon Thy Skin

by D20Owlbear



Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [10]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Book canon compliant, Crowley has no lines cause he's just a small man, Except it's not really topping cause there's no sex but yanno, Light Dom/sub, Look ok they're not gonna go to therapy, M/M, Minor sub-space mention about Crowley's state of mind, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Service Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Shibari, Shibari as an art form, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Service Dom Aziraphale, Some days Crowley just needs a bit more help, T for nakedness but it's like never really mentioned, and that's totally perfectly alright, more like, no beta we die like the Bentley, no mentions of genitalia, they're actually doing pretty ok about it, they're working it out themselves and well, tho not in those exact words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: 4/12 Days of Blasphemy 2020“And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes.” (Deuteronomy 6:8)Sometimes, Crowley is very anxious. Well, all the times, but sometimes it gets to be too much. So Aziraphale wraps him up with ropes and love and waits until Crowley can come back to him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570819
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54
Collections: 12 Days of Blasphemy 2020





	A Sign Laid Upon Thy Skin

**Author's Note:**

> If you spot a typo, and you know my direct contact info, you're allowed to tell me.

Aziraphale wrapped a length of rope around Crowley's knees, the second such pass that would hobble him and make him unable to escape without help from Aziraphale. Crowley breathed steadily and held his own hands behind his back. They were unbound, for now, but he breathed so slowly and his body was so still and pliable it was as if he were asleep. 

The beautiful red rope twisted with only a single knot at Crowley's left thigh, his knees bound in a natural, comfortable bend, and Aziraphale continued with his work. Crowley was on their bed at the moment, letting Aziraphale manhandle him as gently as he liked, turning him over as needed and feeding well-conditioned rope around his ribcage, two passes. Another twist, in the middle of his back this time, and the rope came the other way, higher up over his chest so that his breast was framed by bright, lovely red. It was a delight when Aziraphale was able to untie Crowley entirely, and all the marks left by the rope were the same bright red well into the night and he could pass his fingers over sensitive flesh and remind Crowley he was loved. 

He liked to care for Crowley this way, he liked to care for Crowley quite a _lot_ of ways, but on occasion some methods simply wouldn't work. Now, for instance, Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to pull Crowley into his arms and sit Crowley between his thighs, to tell him all the ways he loved Crowley and always had, to hold him so tightly that none of his fears could reach him. Crowley couldn't handle that, though, only when he was in the depths of his desperation could he ever tolerate the full force of Aziraphale's love. It was better than before.

They hadn't touched much through the ages, and certainly not casually, for fear of putting the other in a place that would invite punishment or retribution somehow. All their touch was deliberate and well telegraphed, even as they were married and came to their Arrangement, even as they came together on the days they could risk it, the days they needed each other the most. 

So now that they were retired, Crowley had a hard time unlearning all of that, Aziraphale did too sometimes but he'd always been the more, well… _bull-headed_ of the two. Once he'd gotten an idea into his head, it was difficult to sway him from it, for better or for worse, and that had worked quite well once he'd convinced himself that some sort of holy wrath for his sort of love wasn't going to appear out of the blue.

But Crowley's voices were a bit more insidious, they hissed at him all day and night and his poor dear was rather delicate, if one knew him. He liked the flash and the pomp and masqueraded as the wittiest thing on two legs or none, but he wasn't quite fast enough to outrun those demons, as it were. So sometimes, Aziraphale wrapped him up in red ropes (or blue, or black, or occasionally gold depending on their moods that day and what sort of reassurances Crowley needed) and let him feel just how loved he was by Aziraphale. 

Every point of contact of the twisting ropes (never knot when you can twist, never twist when you can braid, and never braid when bare skin might be worn to create beautiful art in a medium of ropes and flesh) was blessed. Aziraphale imbued a bit of his angelic power into the rope, sung it full of his love, and Crowley hissed less and less about it the longer it stayed on. At one point, drunk on said love, Crowley had whispered to Aziraphale that it felt like a hug, but more, all the love he could feel writing itself into his bones and wriggling into his soul. Aziraphale hadn't tried very hard not to be proud of that. 

"There we are, love," Aziraphale murmured, daring to speak for the first time now that Crowley was properly trussed up. The chest harness connected to cuffs looped around both Crowley's arms so that they crossed at his shoulder blades, but the bulk of the weight-bearing rope was around his shoulders and chest and ribs where they might reduce Crowley's breathing slightly for a half-hour or so, but he didn't really need to do much of that anyway. Plus it'd keep his shoulders in socket on the off chance the weight shifted somehow once he was off the ground. 

Crowley muttered something into the pillow and Aziraphale didn't bother to try to figure out what it was, unless addressed directly with a question, Crowley usually didn't bother to try to make sensical words in the first place. With a kiss to Crowley's brow, Aziraphale scooped him up from the bed and padded quietly to the hook and pulleys they'd installed over in the corner of their bedroom for such things. Aziraphale took the long, trailing cords hanging from one of the only true knots in the harness, and set Crowley down gently into a kneeling position. 

"Stay up for me, darling, just a bit," Aziraphale crooned, peppering gentle kisses along Crowley's jaw and laid a single kiss between his brows that would sit warm upon his forehead until Crowley grumbled his agreement, swaying a little but keeping his balance as best could be expected of him when he was like this. Aziraphale stroked Crowley's hair back from his face for a moment before returning his attention to his task. He much preferred doing this the human way, without any magic or miracles to interfere. The enjoyable strain in his back and shoulders was honestly negligible and made him feel like he was _doing something_ to help Crowley, same with tying the ropes by hand. Doing things manually for Crowley felt like… well it felt like devotion. Like a man giving up only a few coins but it was all he had left rather than a wealthy man giving more that meant nothing to him. 

With a quiet grunt to get it started, Aziraphale raised Crowley up from bended knee until he was only a foot or so off the floor, his knees were still bent and the ropes were engaged to keep them that way, but the tops of his feet rest on the floor, holding their own weight rather than the ropes themselves but still unable to hold any of the rest of him. That's what the rope harness around his chest was for, that and the trust. 

"Oh, my darling," Aziraphale said softly. He trailed his fingers along the length of Crowley's body, only just firm enough not to tickle. His explorations were not so much that of a new cartographer looking to map the hills and valleys and the jagged edges of a coastline, but that of an old lord surveying his land and finding it _good_ , taking joy in the meandering of well-trod trails and visiting scenic points with an infinite, domestic love. 

It wasn't sexual, not everything had to be, not everything _ought_ to be, Aziraphale thought. Though Crowley could certainly get him going that direction if they chose (and wasn't that a novelty neither of them had grown bored of yet), Aziraphale was happy beyond belief that they could still simply just… _be_. They could exist together, bare skin or not, and simply be happy as they abided within the same space. They could share these vulnerabilities without worry of reproach or recrimination, and could count on being taken care of.

That, Aziraphale thought, was the most lovely of it all. They could care for each other, whole-heartedly and unashamed and they could stand together in bus stops and museum cafes and in all the other places they only barely pretended to know each other before in case they were seen. But now, it didn't matter, their sides weren't looking for them anymore, because they had this.

A new one, just the two of them and perhaps humanity too. A side all their own, where they could love as they pleased and nurture it as they cared. 

And Aziraphale cared very much for his dear Crowley.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me in a couple of places!
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>


End file.
